Search This Blog

I want to stop.

Hello!I don't know if anyone's out there, but, hello! I've never been much for keeping a blog, like really blogging, or journaling or whatnot. Promised I made to myself are very easily broken. Promises I make to people are less easily broken, but still broken all the time. Strictly speaking, this is my writing blog, so it's supposed to be filled with stuff related to "my writing side," but since I deleted my other stagnant blogs that I never posted on, this could be a journalesque type blog too.It won't happen, at least, not in any regular sort of way. Writing seems to be escaping me, or really, academic writing has. For several months I managed to suppress my creative instincts and didn't write fiction all that time. My poetry definitely got worse too. But now, now that I'm failing Comp, now my writing side has come back in, well, part force, but still, it's back and I don't know how to push it away again. I'm craving it so badly. My heart literally, and yes, I mean literally, aches because schoolwork right now is just so hard. I'm really struggling. My homework is always late, my ability to participate in class discussion is disintegrating, and my interest in learning has just stopped. It's been really hard going through the summer. I desperately need a break from school, and not just the ten day summer break we get in August. I understand that in order to complete the course before Christmas, we have to keep going, but why can't we take away one week of being in Italy? Italy is going to be amazing, but I'd still trade a week there for another week in August.I get that I'm so frustrated that I don't give my 100%. I know that I need to give it my best effort. But the longer this goes on, the more my "oomph" goes away. I told my mom that I could do it. I told her I didn't want to drop out and join the next class. And I don't. I just want to drop out. I really do. I really do not want to be here.I just had a weekend in MI at my favorite place in the world. It wasn't enough. I cry so easily these days. Honestly, I prefer it to not crying, but the things I cry over just make me angry. I've always been more of a quitter than I finisher. I intend to see this through, but it's breaking me. It's really breaking me. I guess this is where I rely on God to carry my sorrows and shame, my brokenness and pain. Oh, Esse! Give me the grace to give you everything and give me the strength to want to!

I want to stop.

Not turn back,
not retrace my steps.

I want an easier
way to the top.

Everything is
weighing me down.

I wake up and
feel weighed down.

I close my eyes
and feel weighed down.

2:46, 10:21, any
time, any place,

I feel weighed
down.

It's like I'm
underground.

It's like I'm
trapped outside my skin,

It's like I'm
wrapped around inside a tiny cage

And no one hears
me crying

Or cares that I'm
lying on concrete

My life is not
complete

I'm still got so
many things to do

So much life to
live and air to breathe

I've got people
to love, people who love me

Hugs to share,
friends to lift up

How can I life
them up when I am so down?

I'm stuck here in
this cage underground!

No one to hear my
crying

No one sees I'm
dying inside

Outside, my skin
is raw and creaking

My bones are thin
and breaking

My lungs of full
of dust

I can't breathe!

But no one sees!

Perhaps that's
because I don't want them to.

I'm ugly and
failing and my trembling is

Trying to escape
my bones

I have no home

I have to fight

But I want to run
away

From this cage,
from this rage, from being weighed down

From being stuck
underground

There's no light!

There's no
shadow, or it's all shadow

And everywhere I
look

There's another
book

Trying to
entrance

I need another
chance

I need a hand

I need, I need, I
want, I want

I want to stop!

You're not really
blind, are you?

You see more than
me

You know more
than I'll ever know

You know what's
it's like to be weighed down

But you are
lifted up now.

Do you think,
maybe, you can life me up too?

Maybe I could sit
beside you

Or only at your
feet.

That'd be enough
for me.

To breathe.

With you beside
me.

Get link

Facebook

Twitter

Pinterest

Google+

Email

Other Apps

Comments

Post a Comment

I am a writer. The best word to describe me might be impulsive. I'm a talkative introvert who loves people even though they scare me. My idiosyncrasies include but are not limited to: talking to invisible characters, roleplaying my own stories as a form of editing, listen to music in a language I don't understand, drinking coffee late at night, waxing poetic about pretty much anything, and never reading or writing one thing at a time.